The One That Got Away
by Meaghan McCormak
Summary: Inspired on Katy Perry's song required while reading . Kurt's flashbacks to his 1952's summer, when he first met and fell in love Blaine. No happy ending. One-shot.


Before reading, please, play Katy Perry's song, _The One That Got Away. _There's a Youtube link below if you want to.

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><p>He saw his own eyes in the mirror. It was still him, after all these years. His rounded and red lips were mesmerizing as always, and his figure remained slender and tall. He looked just fine and the way the black tuxedo contrasted with his pale, clear and soft skin was captivating. He was an angel. <em>"The most beautiful angel ever",<em> his fiancé had told him several times now.

He was supposed to go downstairs in less than an hour and there was nothing stopping him. Not really. The only thing that did have him frozen to the spot in front of his own reflection was his heart. He could hear its thumping in his ears, racing near his temple. There was an impossible lump in his throat and the weakness was spreading from his face towards his knees.

He loved Don, he really did. He couldn't have been luckier; both their parents –Kurt's and Don's- had accepted their marriage, even though they had decided to keep it a complete secret. Society in 1966 wasn't very agreeable on homosexuality, but as long as they didn't touch them, they were all okay with not telling anyone about it. _"It might be hard, but it'll be worth it,"_ he recalled his betrothed's sweet words.

That was why he didn't think those feelings were fair. Why did things have to be so difficult?

Fourteen years. He looked down at his right wrist, rolling his sleeve up, just a tiny bit.

_**Summer after high school**_

The small, pink heart was still there. It looked kind of washed out, just barely. But the meaning kept getting stronger and stronger for Kurt.

It had been fourteen years already.

And he still couldn't get him out of his mind. Even though he woke up every single morning next to Don's green, deep eyes, the ones he saw instead were hazel, tender ones; _his._

* * *

><p><em>1952<em>

"I think I've never felt bored of vacations after only two weeks," Mercedes moaned, making Kurt laugh. While they both walked down the desert streets –they were practically the only ones- Mercedes kicked a small stone, which rolled until it stopped a few feet away from them.

"Oh, nice," he said, chortling again. They had a habit of doing that; it was their silly, little game. It was his turn now and this time it went even further.

"So I guess you know this means war, don't you?" she did it once again and Kurt ran a bit, trying to reach the pebble before it came to a halt. When he got to the corner, he didn't see the person about to turn his way.

"Ouch!" they both fell to the floor and Mercedes jogged to where his friend was, rubbing his forehead.

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry, I just…" the other boy started saying in a slightly high pitched, worried voice.

"No, I didn't see you, I'm sorry," he apologized too and they stood up, Kurt with the girl's help. He dusted off his clothes before looking up "Really, I'm so… sorry."

The polite, apologetic smile on both their faces slowly vanished, and so did everything else. They stared, softly, for a moment, though it felt like ages. Enough to make them feel comfortable; as if they had known each other for life. It had felt so pure, so right.

_**When we first met.**_

"Blaine," was all that the boy with dark curls, kind eyes and sweet smile had been able to say, holding out his hand. They looked deeply into the other, breathlessly. He glanced at his hand and easily shook it.

"Kurt," the other teenager articulated, surprisingly, without any difficulty. Both of them smiled absently and at that moment, they knew deep down somewhere that, soon enough, they would mean more to each other than what they had ever expected.

* * *

><p><em><strong>We make out in your Mustang, to Radiohead<strong>_

Blaine tugged at Kurt's hair softly, as their mouths struggled silently, the music coming out of the radio barely being paid attention to. They were full of heat and passion and at that moment they couldn't care less about the fact that they were in Blaine's new car, parked right in front of the Hummel's house. For all they knew Burt could've easily caught them but there was nothing that could stop them at that moment. In between kisses they came to their senses again, feeling dizzy, but as soon as they found the other's lips once more, the world would just stop spinning and, for a change, everything made sense. They pulled apart for a second and right before diving in again, Kurt was stopped by Blaine's hoarse voice.

That was the first time they said it.

"I love you," their foreheads together, he was looking down, his hand grabbing Kurt's, placed in his shoulder. The other almost gaped, eyes fixed on Blaine's eyelids. For the hundredth time with him, his heart could have just as well stopped beating.

A disbelieving smile grew on his face; small but sincere.

"I love you too," he replied causing relieved and happy hazel to crash with grateful sea foam blue. They leaned in, never breaking eye contact and as they kissed their lips meshed perfectly. The world faded again.

* * *

><p>"It's okay, consider it your birthday present," he suggested.<p>

_**And on my 18th birthday,**_

"My father still won't like it," he insisted, making the other boy stop talking with a grin on his face.

_**we got matching tattoos.**__**  
><strong>_

"_I_ like it," he stated. Blaine looked up at him and smiled lovingly.

"Yeah, I know," he merely answered, pausing to check out his own-freshly-tattooed wrist. "I like it too."

"I know it's not the most complex thing in the world," Kurt admitted, still staring at his delicate and simple little pink heart "But it's perfect. And beautiful" he finished.

"Just like you," the older one called out, without restraining himself. The boy standing next to him experienced that shortness of breath that was so usual with Blaine. His insides went crazy and the only thing he wanted was to kiss him nonstop; to hug him tight and close for hours. But that was almost impossible, something that made him sad enough to lower his head without being able to do anything.

As though he had sensed it, he noticed his hand being wrapped by another warm one. He found Blaine's encouraging gaze and smiled sadly. But smiled nonetheless. And so did his boyfriend.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Used to steal your parents' liquor and climb to the roof, <strong>_

"And oh, so, Blaine and Kurt, like apes got onto the rooftop and saw Santa laughing…" he sang out loud, breath stinking of faint alcohol.

"Kurt, l-lower your… vo-voice," the other teenager giggled in a childish manner, still climbing to his own roof.

"…laughing, and flying over, above the entire city of New York," Kurt splashed the tiles with the amber, smelly liquid while he agitated the nearly empty bottle.

Behind him, Blaine tripped and almost knocked him down. They laughed hysterically and tears appeared in their eyes when the boy with the delicate features moaned. "These tiles hurt my butt, Anderblaison," they went on fooling and joking around like that for hours, talking about random things.

"New York, huh?" Blaine had asked.

"Yes, New York indeed, mister," Kurt stated with a mischievous finger going down the other's chest.

"Then that's where we'll live. When you're done school here and I'm done with my family, we're off to New York," he exclaimed, bottle in hand, gesturing towards a imaginary and distant future that would later be nothing but the starry sky above them "together, forever until we are eaten by… a squid!" he finished in an excited, teasingly way.

_**talk about our future, like we had a clue,**_**_  
><em>**

"You're crazy," the now dozy boy acknowledged, laughing without any will power.

"Only for you," he spoke seriously and endearingly.

It was three am in the morning already and the alcohol effects were starting to wear off already, causing them to start nodding off.

"Blaine?" Kurt mumbled sweetly from the gap between said boy's legs.

"Hmm?" he whispered too.

"Are you leaving me?" he asked, with a sudden hint of lazy grief in his voice.

"What are you talking about? Me, leaving you?" the hazel-eyed kid answered, kissing the other boy's head which rested in his own strong and firm chest "How could I?"

"I don't know. It might be hard. Two boys dating, and for so long," he explained, trying to clear up his mind.

"I'm not leaving you. Ever," Blaine insisted, eyes still closed and kissed Kurt's fingers. His friend sighed strongly in despair, sitting up. How could he talk about it so lightly? His eyes drowned in tears once again and his breathing got heavier. He didn't know if it was because of the incipient hangover or what, but he felt so fragile. He moved away from Blaine, who also sat up, propping on his elbows.

"What happened?" he asked. When he heard sobbing, his heart broke into a million pieces "Hey, hey, what's wrong?" he bent closer to him, trying to get some balance. Falling at that moment off the roof wouldn't be the best thing. He noticed he had his arms closed around his own chest, like a child trying to ignore his best friend. After a moment of silence, he tried again "Kurt?"

"Do you still love me?" was all that came out of his throat, not even thinking about it. He left Blaine speechless.

"Of course I still love you."

"Then why do I get this feeling that you're going to leave?" he turned around, the trail of all the tears drawn perfectly clear on his face.

"You don't have to feel like that, Kurt." he smiled in return. "You don't ever have to feel like that, at all. Not even for a second. Don't you ever think that I'm leaving you because I am not. I'm too in love with you to ever let you go. I'm too selfish to even consider losing you;" his voice quivered and his hands trembled. "I'm happier with you than I've ever imagined I would be." It was the truth; the whole and complete truth. How could he ever lie to Kurt? And specifically about that? He never thought he would find somebody like him. Not only he had had the luck to find a boy who liked him back, he had found a boy whom he had fell in love with. And let God punish him if he was wrong but had he given any reasons for Kurt to think so? For all he knew he had been by his side day and night, telling him all of his feelings, dreams, his every thought. But what if that wasn't enough for Kurt?

What was he supposed to do if he wasn't giving him what he wanted?

"Don't leave me," he muttered out of the blue. Kurt blinked in surprise at how the roles had been changed, wasn't _he_ crying a minute ago? The look on Blaine's face was the most heartbreaking thing ever. "Please, don't ever leave me," he pleaded, crawling closer to Kurt, whose eyes flickered again, letting a tear roll down all the way to his chin, where Blaine placed a soft and painful kiss.

_**never plan that one day,**_

"I won't," he assured him with all his might and heart, still in a devastating tone.

They stayed there for hours, until the next morning just hugging and crying silently.

_**I'd be losing you.**_

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><p><em><strong>I was June and you were my Johnny Cash,<strong>__**  
><strong>_

"Blaine, stop!" he laughed out loud, cheerfully. "I'm gettin' dizzy!"

_We got married in a fever, hotter than a pepper sprout,_

"Na-ah, we'll stop dancing as soon as the song's over," the other boy insisted sweetly, making Kurt twirl and kissing him in between dancing steps.

_I'm going to Jackson, I'm gonna mess around,_

_Yeah, I'm going to Jackson,_

_Look out Jackson town._

The night was peaceful and quiet. They were all alone in the middle of somewhere in the countryside; the _Mustang_ was parked on the grass near them with the doors opened and the radio on, so they had been dancing to Johnny Cash, June Carter and Elvis' tunes for a long while now.

They laughed once more before returning to the traditional dance position, two hands holding, a hand on a firm shoulder and another on a soft waist, moving from side to side in a really calm way. As always, staring into the other's eyes was one of the things they loved the most about being together; in there, they saw all the moment they had been together ever since they met that morning, a couple of months ago; all the words they had said to each other; all they were feeling at the moment. The love, the anxiousness, the passion, the longing –even though they were as close as possible, it still wasn't enough. They smiled at each other and broke eye contact, the taller boy hiding his head in the crook of Blaine's warm neck.

"You look beautiful tonight," he whispered into his ear, making Kurt blush happily.

"I love you," he hummed, still swaying gently "so much," and he kissed Blaine on the same spot.

"Your lips are so soft," he purred and felt a smirk against his skin, followed by more kisses. "It kind of tickles," he tried to giggle, but it came out as somewhat of a groan.

Kurt couldn't help himself; he had never felt that way. Towards anyone, ever.

And there was Blaine, doing all these wonderful things for him. They were in love and that was all that existed for the two of them.

And that was the first time _it happened._

Kisses became more fervent, strokes avider, touches deeper and distance just disappeared between them, in every way. That night they were physically and mentally one; the same person.

Panting and breathing agitatedly all over the other, they held each other the whole night once again, crying with bliss.

"Tell me again, please. Promise me, you'll never, ever leave me," Blaine repeated, just like two weeks before.

"I won't ever leave you, I couldn't even if I wanted to," he assured him, without any trace of doubt in his voice. There wasn't any, he was sure. He just knew he needed Blaine more than anything in the entire world, and so it would be for the rest of their lives. "I'm too selfish to even consider losing you," he quoted with an emotional smile on his lips.

"Glad to hear that," he admitted with another tearful beam.

"I love you so much, Blaine," he repeated, seeking protection in his arms, in his chest, in his neck, in his hair. In Blaine. In his soul mate. In the only guy he would ever really, truly love.

"I love you too, Kurt," the other garbled shivering "So much, so… Way too much, I don't know what I'd do without you."

"Then it's a good thing you'll never be without me," he said calmly with his chin on Blaine's shoulder and, strangely, that made him stop shaking in fear. It gave him an extreme sense of safety and comfort; of bliss.

_**never one without the other, we made a pact.**_

And Johnny Cash and June Carter were still singing in the back, marking those songs their own. As the ones they'd listen to years later when they felt like looking back together, at how it all started._**  
><strong>_

_**Sometimes when I miss you…**_

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><p>… <em><strong>I put those records on.<strong>_

_1961_

_But they wouldn't._

_Cause they wouldn't be together forever._

Kurt smashed his fists against the wall, crying uncontrollably.

His sobbing was so abrupt and the hiccups so hasty that he felt like he could throw up in any moment. He looked in the bathroom mirror and realized he couldn't go back to the table with eyes swollen, face flushed and all flustered, like he was at that moment.

He couldn't believe it.

He just couldn't _fucking_ believe it. Was he really getting married? To a woman? And they were "in love"? One thing was remembering, missing him, dreaming of him, crying because of him. But another thing, entirely different was reading _that_ on the newspaper. It had been too much for Kurt to handle silently already.

A couple of days after reading the article he flew off to the city where it said he was living with his future _wife_ and searched for the exact bar. _The Blue Piano_ was where Blaine worked as a blues and jazz singer. Kurt knew he sang beautifully, he knew that he had lovely music skills. He had been the first one to know about that, according to the other boy. Piano was what he played best and when they were younger he did so for him; dedicated ballads, he even wrote some of them and Kurt would always remember those lyrics.

When he sat at a table not too near the stage he waited for him and the rest of the band to come out –ironically. He had no idea what his reaction would be. To see him after all this time, and what was he going to do when _he _saw Kurt sitting there? Near his bride. The lights went dim and the owner's voice echoed all throughout the fancy restaurant, followed by some pretty loud claps.

The trumpet men stepped in, then the one with the violin, the drums man. And then, after what seemed years…

A man who was a bit younger than thirty, with black and messy curls, a faded suggestion of beard and… those eyes. Those hazel eyes. They looked like hot honey and they were all Kurt needed to have that sense of reassurance he had never founded in anyone else. He could hear the standing ovation around him but it just sounded like a distant buzz. Just like it always happened with Blaine, when they were in the same room, everything else disappeared. But now it seemed as though it was only for him.

_**Someone said you had your tattoo removed.**_

He sat down in front of the piano and when he stretched his arms to get ready, Kurt took a glance at his wrist. He was close enough to see if there was at least a mark or something, but he saw nothing. So it was true.

_**Saw you downtown, singing the blues.**_

He had a flashback to that moment. And when he heard Blaine's voice he had a flashback to all of those moments when they had met. And thus, the weeping started. When he saw the way his own old, first true love looked at his new one –that, to Kurt's dismay, wasn't him-; when he saw him cracking a huge smile and his face lighting up, his eyes glimmering, he broke down completely and realized he had no strength to follow with that. He couldn't talk to Blaine about it. Damn, he couldn't even look at him.

_**It's time to face the music; I'm no longer your muse.**_

He got up and simply left, bawling all the way down to his house, and then to his bed and cried himself to sleep. But when that didn't work, he sang to himself, in resignation, the songs Blaine had written for him years ago, as a lullaby.

It was only then he fell asleep.

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><p><em>1965<em>

"So, Kurt, would you marry me?"

He was in complete shock. There he was, sitting at a rich table, in another elegant restaurant that Don had rented for them to spend the night alone and, as normal as the evening had started out, it had now turned into another thing. With a big, beautiful ring, asking Kurt to marry him.

"I…" he didn't want to doubt, he was just speechless "Yes."

"Yes?" Don asked with a small smile spreading.

"Yes, yes!" he cried and after having the ring placed he jumped into his arms and hugged him tightly.

_**All this money can't buy me a time machine, no.**_

"It's… it's beautiful, Don. Oh my god" it all felt so right, seeing Don smiling at him, meaning it. It was perfect, he was actually perfect, Mr. Right. But still, Kurt felt something in his stomach. A stab of guilt, perhaps?

_**Can't replace you with a million rings, no.**_

But that was it now. Blaine was married and now it seemed so was he –or about to, that was. Now they could both move on and go on with their own lives. Separately. They were no longer the same person, like that night. All they had left were the memories. They were treasured and they would probably continue to be for as long as they would both live. It had been a perfect summer. A perfect love story; with the perfect ending for it –or that was what Kurt said, trying to convince himself that ruining Blaine's marriage wasn't worth it.

_**I should've told what you meant to me, whoa.**__**  
><strong>__**'Cuz now I pay the price.**_

_He had lost his opportunity._

He would just have to let it go and continue with his life…

_He would just have to let it go and continue with his life…_

_**In another life, I would be your girl**__**  
><strong>_

…that from that moment on would be better.

…_that from that moment on would be bitter._

_He had really screwed the whole thing up. He sat there, unhappy. Miserably. He had let other people take decisions for him, wrecking the only thing that he had been completely sure he had loved in his entire life. Ever since he was born, Kurt had been the one thing that he had been certain he didn't want to lose._

_**we'd keep for our promises, be us against the world.**_

_And his own family, rejecting and ignoring him had made the impossible to keep him from being happy._

_What kind of life was that?_

_And they had noticed, of course. Otherwise, he wouldn't be there._

_In that crappy situation. He remembered it as if it had been the day before._

_Three weeks before of the wedding, years ago, he had to perform at _The Blue Piano_ –for crying out loud, he even had a good job, but no. Now that was gone too- in front of his and Emily's family. He wasn't in love with Emily, but his parents had told the press that, what a father, huh? How could he be in love with her? Not only she wasn't, well… A man. She wasn't Kurt. Blaine was positive he didn't want a man. He didn't want anyone. He wanted his Kurt. His own Kurt. His only love, the only person he had ever loved and needed in his entire life, he would never get tired of crying over him, because it was worth it._

_And singing the songs he had written for and about him –after his parents had decided to steer Blaine away from Kurt- just to stay strong… That was the only way of not breaking down every single time he got onto stage. And to be honest, it had left a huge mark on him. Not to count the tattoo, that was literal, he still had it there, in his right wrist. He had never been able to be with another man –or woman- in the same way he had been with Kurt. And so, the only way Blaine could smile was recurring to Kurt. His thoughts, his ghost, his memories, his songs, his tattoo… So that night, when he smiled at Emily, he was really smiling _to_ Kurt. Because he had pictured his face. His beautiful face; he was grateful for that. He hadn't forgotten his face yet, again; how could he? It was the face of an angel. _

"I know it's not the most original thing in the world. But it's perfect. And beautiful"

"Just like you"

_And when he did... When Blaine smiled at Emily, a man stood up. A client sitting near the stage, left, sobbing. He recognized him. Not only that sobbing was familiar_

"What happened?" he asked. When he heard sobbing, his heart broke into a million pieces "Hey, hey, what's wr…

_But he recognized the slim body, the delicate walking, the hair, the way his arms were surrounding his own chest while crying and leaving._

_He recognized him and did nothing. He just yelled and shed thousands of tears from the stage itself, frozen. The whole band was petrified, the clients scared, the families disgusted._

_And Kurt gone._

_And now he was all alone._

_**In another life, I would make you stay**__**  
><strong>__**so I don't have to say you were, the one that got away.**_

_**The one that got away.**_

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><p><em>Ok, so, this is the most depressing thing I've ever written. I love angst and drama but this made me cry a fucking much. Yeah, cry with my own oneshot, whatever, I'm lame.<em>

_THIS ISN'T HISTORICALLY CORRECT but I just don't imagine this happening in the sixties, it's really a lot like The Notebook, so go fifties!_

**The One That Got Away - Katy Perry**

_On infinite loop, otherwise you only read the first part and it doesn't make any sense._

_Anyway, hope you like it. And don't worry cause they're happy afterwards. (They get married, I don't even know, but it turns out just fine) :)_

_It took me 5 hours to write this._

_In case you want the link to the song._

replayyoutube watch. html?v=ePQe5E69INg

_If you could review so that I know what I should change about my writing, it would be great._

_Thank you :)_


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